Waiting

She waits for him to arrive and take a seat. Fill the chair that stands empty before her. His suit straining from the bulk of his muscular frame. She waits for him to request a drink. The timbre of his voice. Three ice cubes, not two. A generous measure of his favourite drink. A trickle of condensation inching down the glass. She waits for a hint of a smile. A glint in his eye. Permission to come closer. She’s fed up of waiting to touch. She wants him…..now.